Eligere
by SortaKindaArtsyIntrovert
Summary: Eligere - to choose. Connor and Murphy are separated by a horde of walkers. Conner believes Murphy to be dead, so he hides away in a church, planning to let himself wither away, in hope of being with his brother again, in heaven. Until he meets Daryl Dixon.
1. Prolouge

"Did ye get this plan from a movie, too, Conn?" Murphy chuckled and slapped me on the back. I cuffed him over the head.

"No, ye git. I think it would be better for us to sneak around them separately and then join up. We'll be a helluva lot harder to notice if we go separately." I slowly grinned. "Or are ye too scared, Murph!" I dodged a punch and chuckled quietly. The smile disappeared in favour of a more serious look. I cupped the back of Murphy's neck and dragged his head forward until our foreheads rested against each other. "Brother, I love ye. And you're only going ta hear me say tha' once. Be careful." My eyes shone with the seriousness of the entire ordeal. I placed my hand over his mouth and kissed it. "Don't be stupid."

"Alright, Conn. Ready?" His Adam's apple bobbed nervously. I nodded quietly. "Catch ye on th' flip side." He smiled, a reminiscent light filling his eyes.

"One, two, three!" We both darted separate ways out of our hiding place; He darted to the right and I to the left. I stuck to the shadows and proceeded at a light, quiet jog. The grass, crisp from the cold night, crunched lightly under my shoes as I made the 800-meter sprint. About halfway to the rendezvous the horde of walkers to my right noticed something. And it wasn't me. They started to shamble to the right. My heart dropped. _Murphy._ I pulled my Beretta 92FS and unscrewed the silencer. I needed this to be loud. I took aim of the closest walker and fired. The snap of gunfire resounded through the air. The walkers turned. I ran. Away from the rendezvous point. Away from Murphy. Away from the blood curdling scream that came from behind me.

I ran until my lungs cried out and my muscles groaned from exhaustion. I looked behind me; the walkers were falling behind, probably due to the trees and uneven ground. I spotted a clearing up ahead with a small building nestled in the center of it. I burst from the tree line and ran straight for the building. I slowed my pace, as I got closer to the building. The building used to be a church. The large, weather worn roof sported a cross and the large wooden doors looked all too familiar. I crept up to the doors and slowly turned the handle. I gently pushed the door open and slipped inside. A few walkers were scattered among the pews, soft groans and a putrid scent accompanied them. I couldn't be bothered to kill them, so I just quietly slid into the pew closet. I let my head hang and a silent prayer graced my lips.

I prayed for Murphy. What else is there to pray for anymore? Not to go to hell? I'm in hell, now. The world has gone to shit and my brother, my twin; half of my soul is gone. A slow steady throbbing in the very root of my heart, reminding me of this fact. I raised my eyes to meet the statue of Jesus Christ at the front of the church. This church is a mere ghost of my past. My brother's past. Society's past. An echo of what once was and a glimpse of what will never be, again. Seconds dragged into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into days. My body slowly weakened, until I had to rest my head on the pew in front of me, and clutch my stomach to stop the walkers in the room from hearing me. The silent prayers never ceased nor paused. I will wait for god to take me to see my brother. We will meet again.


	2. Aeternum

A/N: My story will not follow The Walking Dead's story line. At all. But don't get me wrong. I adore both The Walking Dead and The Boondock Saints. I don't really like doing AU, but I don't think I can write this (well) with all of the characters. So for my story's sake (my sanity's) when they cuffed Daryl's brother to the roof he left the group and ventured off on his own. He stumbled on the church while looking for somewhere dry to sleep. I hope you like it!

**Edit: I just corrected a few mistakes and fixed the accents a teeny bit. I swear there was more but I read it over 4 times and couldn't find them again. I've gotten myself some Houdini grammatical errors. So any residual errors are still mine. I don't got any of that fancy-arsed beta stuff going on. (haha) Enjoy! **

Chapter I:

A loud bang pulled me from my prayers. Making me very aware of how emaciated I was. My bones clicked and grinded together like dice rattling in a cup, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth with dehydration, and my throat raw from the hushed prayers. I pulled myself up and leaned my back against the pew. A wave of vertigo making the world spin. I slowly pulled my feet under me and hoisted myself up. _Twack_, the sound of projectiles splitting the air and burying themselves in the intended targets filled my ears, I spun as fast as my body would let me towards the door.

"Murph!" I tried to call out, but it came out as a dry, strained whisper. My brother, my twin, the other half of my soul stood not ten feet from me. God has not turned on me. I tried to run to him, but my legs couldn't hold me and I collapsed onto my knees. I griped my rosary in my hand and thanked god. I thanked him for bringing my kin to me. I thanked him for saving my life.

"Ya alive, Saint? If ya ain't I'm gonna shoot ya right fuckin' now. Hell even if you're alive I might still shoot yas for the fun of it." A deep southern voice commanded. I raised my head, the voice sounded so familiar, so safe, but the accent is all wrong. I swallowed, trying to clear my throat.

"Murphy! Don' ye fuckin' recognize your twin when ye see 'im!" I tried to laugh but it caught painfully in my throat.

"Who the fuck 're and who the fuck is Murphy?" He raised his bow and took aim. The cold look in his eye tied a knot in my gut.

"Murphy?" A lump rose in my throat. "Murph…" I tried to stand again, this time my legs supported me, although shakily. "Murph, it's me. Connor. Your twin."

"I don't gotta twin, and I sure as fuck ain't this Murphy." He lowered his bow ever so slightly. "Now get yer prayin' ass off the floor and fuckin' walk, boy." He gestured to the priest's chambers behind me with the crossbow. I turned and shuffled painfully towards the chambers. I twisted the handle and let the door yawn open. A body hit me with full force, snarling. The smell of rotted flesh assaulted my nostrils. Forgetting about my malnourishment, I flung my hand up and caught the walker by the throat and pulled my knife from its sheath. I slid the blade deep into the walker's head. The thing dropped heavily and I pushed it off. I laid my head back against the floor, my fatigue catching up with me; a puff of breath escaped my lips.

"Get up." Murphy's look alike muttered. I hauled myself to my feet and found my way to the nearest chair in the chambers and collapsed in it. The man sat down across from me and kicked his feet up on the desk between us. He folded his arms and propped his head up on his hand. He looked to be Murphy's age. Hell, everything was the exact same except his accent and his eyes. Murphy's eyes held a young yet weathered and wise light in them. And when he looked at me, there was love, adoration, and trust, which I'm sure mine reflected. But this man's eyes held a thousand broken tales, stories of hardships, and his eyes were dusted with years of pain beyond his time. When his eyes rested on me all I could see were close guarded secrets, pain, and distrust. The burn in my throat and hunger in my stomach distracted me from observing the stranger. The sharp pain in my abdomen told me it had been a few days since I had eaten.

"Y' alrigh' there, saint?" The man asked, seemingly nonchalant.

I chuckled breathlessly. "Why brother, ye worried?" I grinned. A dark light passed through his eyes. More secrets.

"Fuck off. I ain't worried. I just don't want ya moanin' and a groanin' and attractin' all them walkers." He huffed. "I'm going to go catch something to eat. Stay here or don' stay here. See if I care." And with that he pulled himself to his feet and strode from the room. I leaned back against the chair and closed my eyes, a sigh escaping from my lips. Maybe I'll just catch a few minutes rest while he hunts. The world faded blissfully to blackness.

I heard the door opening and was jolted from my slumber. I grabbed my gun from its holster and leapt up. I snuck over to the door and peered through it. There was a man, covered in blood with a few small animals hanging off of his belt and a large crossbow slung across his back. I swung the door open and approached the man, gun drawn.

"What the fuck are ye doin' in my goddamn place! And where the FUCK is-" I chuckled. "Sorry, Murph. Ya surprised me you dumb git! Since when could you hunt?"

Murphy looked confused and a bit pissed off. "I ain't your fucking Murph. Here," He handed me a charred squirrel. "Eat up, Saint. When you're done you can get the fuck out." He turned and dropped in his chair and began eating his own squirrel.

"Has god turned his back on us Murph?" I ripped off a bit of meat and chewed on it. "I thought bein' te Saints of Boston would've guaranteed us a place in heaven, but it seems to had guaranteed us a place in hell. I'll make sure tey don' get ye lil' brother." More confusion flashed across his face and then understanding.

"Saints of Boston. You were one of the saints?" He chuckled in disbelief.

"Connor and Murphy MacManus. What's gotten into ye? Ye were a Saint, too." I rolled my eyes at him. I eyed the squirrel carcass in my hand; I had picked it clean and yet my stomach still growled for more.

"Y'all were like fictional heroes." He chuckled and picked at his squirrel some more.

"Like sometin' straight outta movies." I clamped my eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling. "I always had the worst plans. Like that time we bailed straight outta that window washin' thing with nothing but rope keepin' us from falling to our deaths." His eyes flashed with frustration. I pulled a picture from my pocket. "What's yer name?" I deadpanned, looking down at the worn picture in my hands. Rocco and Murphy smiled up at me.

"I thought ya had set yer crazy fuckin' head on calling me 'Murph'" He tossed the Squirrel remains into the corner of the room. He picked at his nails thoughtfully. "Daryl." He finally muttered begrudgingly.

"Daryl. It suits ye, I guess." I smiled at him sadly. " 'M Connor." I set the photo on the desk between us and slid it to him. "You look just like me Murph." He pulled the photo closer to himself.

"Holy fuck. I can see the confusion. Looks like I've gotta long lost twin." He chuckled. "Where is the other Saint, then?" His face fell when he realized where the other saint probably was.

"We were trying to skirt around a big horde in some city not to far from here. We spilt up. I think he tripped or just made too much noise. They heard him. I shot the closet one to me; I wanted them to chase me. I wanted to give him a chance. I ran until I stumbled upon this building. I did the only thing I knew how to do. I prayed. And then you found me." I smiled sadly at him. He tossed me another squirrel.

"That's a good story, Saint, but I came here to sleep and that's what I'm gonna do. So you can do whatever y'all wanna do but I'm gonna crash." He tipped his chair and kicked up his feet on the desk and closed his eyes.

I picked at the new squirrel carcass. When I had picked it clean, I dropped it on the floor next to the other one and leaned back in the chair. I closed my eyes and let myself fade into oblivion.

A streak of sunshine hit my eyes perfectly, waking me from my slumber. I stretched, my bones cracking. My eyes automatically came to a rest on him. His face was bathed in light, and I wondered how the bright sun hadn't woken him. I smiled and stood. I sauntered over to him and gently poked him in the face. "Wake up." His eyes shot open and his hand flung out and clutched me by the neck. He threw me into the wall. His hands pressed harder and harder on my throat, slowly choking the air out of my lungs.

"Fuckin' kill my brother, huh? Let's see how that fuckin' works out for y'all!" He hissed, a crazed look in his eyes.

"Daryl. Stop. It's me." I wheezed out. Understanding cleared his eyes.

"Shit." He dropped his hands. He turned and grabbed his crossbow. "Good luck, Saint."

"Where are you going?" I held my throat, trying to soothe the burning. "I have to come with you." I stood and tried to follow him.

"Why? Huh? Why the fuck do you HAVE to come with me? Because you think I'm your brother? Because I can help you find your brother? Because you think that because I was _nice_ to you means that you can leech off me?" He spat out. He turned on his heel and stormed towards the church door.

"I can't let me brother die again." I whispered. He spun.

"I'm not your fuckin' BROTHER! When the fuck are you going to realize that?"

"I need this. Me other half is gone Daryl. He was me everythin'. Me soul. Me brother. Me twin. If ye don't let me come with ye, I'll go crazy."

"You are of no use to me, leprechaun." He spat out.

"I was a Saint and I'm probably just as good of a shot as ye are." I strode up to him. "I'll watch your back an' I'll find me own food. Just let me come with ye."

"Fine. Whatever. But if you get in my way. I will kill you."

A/N: Daryl was nice to Connor the first night they met because I think Daryl thought, maybe, just maybe, he could start fresh. Connor doesn't know him from before. So maybe he could be the person he used to be when he was a boy. And maybe he could have a brother just like he always wanted. But when he choked Connor he realized that everyone around him would get hurt _by _him. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	3. Ut Ad Amare

A/N: I'm so sorry I took so long to update. I was in the middle of nowhere and the Internet was so damn slow I couldn't upload anything. I'll try to keep it a weekly update from here on out! Thank you to all of you who reviewed! You guys are all fantastic and very encouraging! I reread Chapter One and I have to apologize. No one should ever be subjected to my terrible grammar. I should probably look into the whole Beta thing (but I don't really know what that entails). Ta for now, my dearest readers!

Chapter II:

"We're gonna go straight that way. There should be some houses we can look through." Murphy grumbled and strode off in the direction he nodded.

"Alrigh'. Do ye need me te carry something?" I jogged to catch up. He just kept walking. "Anything?" Silence. "I jus' can't get ye to shut up, aye?" I chuckled dryly at my own rubbish joke. More silence. I tried again. "Where are ye from, then?" He grunted.

" Jesus fuckin' Christ." Murphy spun and looked pointedly at me with a sharp glare. "Alrigh' Leprechaun. Get this straight righ' now. We ain't _pals_," He spat the word 'pals' like it was an insult. "We will never be _pals_. I don' fuckin' need ya and if ya annoy me I will fuckin' drop ya on yer ass so fast you won' even know what the fuck happened. Got it?" He huffed and started walking again.

"Lords fuckin' name." I whispered, a lump rising in my throat. I kept pace with him but fell a few feet behind. I stared at him openly. I knew he'd probably cuff me over the head if he caught me but I couldn't help myself. He held himself high but he cowered at the same time. He could use a hug. All of this brave guy, badass talk was just a front. He just wanted someone to hug him and tell him he did well. I chuckled quietly.

"What the fuck are you laughing at, Saint." He shot back, without looking over his shoulder.

"Nothin'," I smirked. "Ma'am." I held in a chuckle.

"Haha." I could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. "Ain't you the funny man."

My stomach dropped and I froze. "Funny man. Yeah. Ha." I tried to keep my voice from betraying my violently churning emotions. Murphy spun, with the obvious intent of telling me to hurry the fuck up. My eyes flicked up to meet his, tears blurring my vision.

"Are you…" He paused. "Are you fuckin' cryin'?"

"Sorry." I muttered. Wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. He just stared intently at me. "I was jus' thinkin' about our funny man, Rocco. I miss him, brother. And it was all my stupid fuckin' fault! Why the fuck did I think a STUPID idea I got from a STUPID fucking movie was going to work? Just got Rocco killed. S'all my fault." I hung my head and stared at my shoes, trying to hide the tears. "And now I lost you. With another plan from a movie. I'd give my soul to the devil to have you back." Tears flowed shamelessly. I raised my head and met his eyes. "I need ye brother. Ye can't leave me by myself. It was always 'Connor and Murphy' and now it's just Connor. I can't just be Connor. I don't know how!" Sobs wracked my chest.

" 'ere." He grumbled and reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled wrapper. He extended his hand out like he was trying to feed a wild animal and slowly approached. "Take it." He pressed something into my hand. I looked down at the tiny item. It was a little piece of a chocolate bar. Just the end of it. I smiled, the tears starting to slow. The name of the chocolate bar was indistinguishable because the name had been rubbed off from being in a pocket. I pushed it into my jacket pocket.

"Ye softy." My smile grew. "I knew ye had a heart, Murph!" I threw my arms around him. He grew ridged in my grasp and pulled back his arms, getting ready to push me away. "Please." I begged, my voice gravelly from crying. "Just let me. Please." He grunted, but let me hold him. He awkwardly held his arms out to the side and stood in silence. "Shepherds we shall be for Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti." The prayer fell from my lips, a ghost of breath falling with it. Memories hung in my mind. The memories warmed my soul from the inside out.

"Are ya done, yet?" He cleared his throat again, awkwardly.

I chuckled and stepped back. "I'm fuckin' shocked ye let me hug ye, brother. Have yer interests changed then. Like boys now?"

"Shut the fuck up, fag." He huffed and stormed off.

"Fag!" I scoffed. "I ain't the one lettin' other men hold me!" I chased after him. "Gay, gay, _gay_!"

"Shut the fuck up Leprechaun or I'll-"

"You'll what? Get a sex change and become a stripper named karma?" I snorted. "Now, I might pay to see that, dear brother- or should I should I say sister!"

"I fuckin' warned ya, faggot." He turned and swung his fist at me. I ducked and swung back, making contact with his left cheek and dodged another blow from him. I danced away and sung at him again but he ducked and my teeth clanked together as he caught my jaw in a deadly uppercut. I stumbled backwards and he swung again, a sickening crunch telling me that my nose was probably busted.

"Shit! Okay, I fuckin' get it." I mumbled.

He brushed me off. " We are going to climb the trees and sleep in 'em for the night. Ya can tie yourself down with rope." He sauntered over to a tree and started to haul himself up.

"Fuckin' a!" I cussed. "I lost me fuckin' rope a while back. Can ye spare me a wee piece?" He pulled himself up onto a branch 20 feet in the air. He eyed me thoughtfully before turning to his pack and tossing down a coil of rope.

"I better fuckin' get that back." He grumbled and tied himself down with his own bit of rope. I clambered up the massive tree after him and pulled myself onto his branch. He gave me the most fowl look. "What the fuck do ya want, now? A fuckin' lolly?"

"Can ye set me nose, asshole?" I muttered.

"With pleasure." He reached up, slowly towards my nose and ever so gently-

"Oi! What the fuck! You didn't have to FLICK the bloody thing into place!" I exclaimed, holding my nose. He settled into his branch and grinned at me. "Fuckin' asshole." I turned and pulled myself onto the branch just above him. I tied the rope around my legs and pulled my coat tighter. I touched my nose and pulled back my hand, squinting in the dark. My nose had mostly stopped bleeding, for now. "Hey Murph?" I waited for a response. He shuffled slightly. "I really love rope and all, but this has to be my least favorite use for it." He chuckled. I smiled to myself; maybe he was warming up to me.

"Alright, you fuckin' idiot. Shut the fuck up before I have to gag you."

"And maybe not." I muttered quietly to myself.


	4. Fratres de Anima

A/N: I'm so very sorry it has been so long. I was trying to quit smoking so I was pissy, bitter, and I just couldn't find the motivation. And even though it's been a damn month I'm still getting notifications for new followers and people favoriting this story and me. So last night I gave up and bought a pack of cigarettes and wrote this. Sorry for the rant and I feel awful about not updating. You guys are inspiration to write and I will try my best to update as fast as I can. :) Thanks so much! (Oh and sorry for the rapid POV change. I hope you don't get whiplash)

**EDIT: A/N: I just fixed some pitiful spelling mistakes and such. :)**

Chapter III:

Connor POV

The faint light of the rising sun stirred me from my slumber. I rubbed at my eyes and yawned lazily. A soft string of curses caught my attention. My eyes shot open and came to rest on Murphy dangling in front of me. A grin split my face.

"Havin' some troubles there, Murph?" My eyes came to rest upon the tangle of rope wrapped around his thigh.

"Shut it, fucker. Jus' get me my knife. Now." He hissed. I reached out and lightly pushed him causing him to spin in a slow circle.

"You're a fuckin' piñata! Oh my god. Of all the times not to have a camera." I chuckled to myself and dodged a punch. "Oh calm down." I pulled my knife from its sheath. " 'ere but ye have to promise to play nice once ye get down." He glared hatefully at me. "Let this be a lesson, Murph. You have ta be smarter than the object yer usin'." I bit my lip to smother the laughter trying to escape. I scrambled up a few branches higher. I held my hand out. "Grab me hand"

"Why? What the fuck are ya doin'?" He grumbled.

"Well, I'm gonna hoist ya fat ass up 'ere, so when I cut the rope ye don' fall on your damn head."

"Jus' hurry the fuck up." I clasped his extended hand in mine and yanked hard. The branch below me gave way and I fell. Branches branded my back with what would later be long, black bruises. My senses dulled as the pain increased sharply.

"Fuck." I hissed out, as I hit the ground. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" I tried to sit up, but a blinding pain in my right leg flared. I collapsed onto my back again. I gasped heavily and stuck my fist in my mouth and bit down. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth and I clenched my teeth harder. I opened my eyes and sat up as quickly as possible. "FUCK!" I gasped sharply. "Holy shit." My eyes fell on my knife sticking out of my leg. "Well, fuck me. Tha' is just fucking fantastic!" I pulled off my shirt and ripped it into long strips. I tied a strip around my thigh just above the knife.

"Holy shit." Murph mumbled from just over my shoulder. "That's a pain in the ass."

"Ye think? Now shut it an' help me th' fuck up." I hissed out between gasps. He nodded and slid his arms under me and hoisted me up. "What th' fuck do ya think yer doing, then, aye? Ya ain't gonna fuckin' carry me like yer bride! Set me th' fuck down." I struggled weakly. My accent thickening with blood loss.

"I'm gonna save ya life, dumbass." He drawled in his thick southern accent. He stepped easily through the underbrush and dodged tree branches. The telltale signs of blood loss started to present themselves as I grew tired and weak. I stayed silent for a long twenty minutes or so until I couldn't take it.

"Where we goin'?" I slurred, tiredly.

"A cottage I found a while back." He mumbled.

"'ow fa'." My head slumped; the world started the blur and fade.

"We're here." I heard him mumbled just before the world faded to black.

Daryl POV

The Irish moron shuffled in my arms restlessly. I nudged the cabin door open with my hip and scanned the room for any threats. It was as empty as it had been when I had last been in it. I set him on the floor and wandered into the back rooms to find towels and sewing materials. I pulled a towel from the cabinet and grabbed the sewing kit from the bedroom. When I got back to the main room he had splayed himself out on the floor, reminding me of how very shirtless he was and how very warm he had been against my chest.

"What're you? A fuckin' faggot now?" I huffed at myself. I propped his leg up on the coffee table nearby and set the towels underneath. I pulled out the sewing scissors and cut away at the fabric around the wound. I pulled back the tattered pants to reveal the tip of the knife. My fingers danced around the wound to see if it was as bad as it looked. The knife has only caught the side of his leg, so it hadn't hit the bone but there would be some serious muscle damage and even worse scarring.

"I have ta pull it out." My fingers danced around the edges of the blade.

"Oh god. Okay. Get me up on me knees." He held his hand out; I grasped it and pulled him as gently as possible onto his knees, ignoring the fluttering deep in my stomach. He wheezed and gasped as the pain sharpened. "Alrigh', now you kneel behind me like this." He pulled me down weekly and patted the spots between his knees. "I'm going te need ye te support me."

"Support ya?" I asked, kneeling where he had asked me to.

"You are about to yank a fuckin' knife outta me leg and you think that I'll just magically stay kneeling? No fuckin' way. Hell, I might even pass out. So get yer ass behind me and let's get this shit over with." He weakly chuckled and pulled me flush against him. He seemed to collapse a bit. I readjusted to support the weight. "Alright on three. One… Two…" I grasped the knife handled in my hand and slowly pulled it out. "FUCK!" My hands flicked out and grabbed him as he fell forward. I guess he was right about the passing out part. I pulled him flush against my chest again, not because I missed the warmth, but because he didn't need head trauma added on to his list of injuries. His head loosely flopped back on my shoulder, his breath ghosted over my neck sending small shivers throughout me.

"Fucking cold in here." I muttered because that was obviously why I was shivering. I laid him down on his back and analyzed the wound more. I would much rather cauterize the wound but that would take too long and he was bleeding profusely. Needle and thread it is. I stood and quickly grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the kitchen. I knelt next to him again and poured the whiskey on the wound. I picked up the needle and thread and started to work.

I remembered all the times I had to stitch myself up after one of dad's infamous beatings. As I got older the weapons and tools had gotten larger. The countless scars were all badges for my childhood. Each one a memory in itself. A long, broken tale. Jesus. I'm starting to sound like a damn woman. My hand came to a rest as I tied off the thread and eyed my handy work. I flipped him over and started to work on the other side.

By the time I had finished both sides he was starting to regain consciousness. I sat back on my ass and leaned against the bed. I lifted the whiskey bottle to my lips and too a long pull. I heard soft muttering coming from my latest baggage.

"What a' ya trying to say, leprechaun?" I leaned closer to him.

"How… the fuck did ye get…. Out of the tree?" He mumbled.

"I found a way." I muttered. "Get on the bed and go to sleep." I reached down and hoisted him up. "C'mon, into the bed." I slowly hauled him towards the double bed.

"Will ye stay, Murph?" He mumbled with a weak smirk playing on his lips.

"I'll be sleeping on the floor." I dumped him on the bed and turned to go get a blanket for myself. A warm hand grasped weakly at me.

"On the bed. Stay." He tried to pull me onto the bed and I pulled back. "Please?" His voice broke and my resolve crumbled quickly.

"I'll just be here, ya pussy." I muttered.

"Come here. The bed is comfy. I won't touch ye. Just… stay." He shuffled over in the bed and pulled the covers over himself but he held up a corner and motioned for me to join him.

"This don' mean a thing, faggot." I huffed and slid into the bed.

Connor POV

A loud string of curses woke me from my slumber. I was wrapped around Murphy like an octopus. I chuckled quietly.

"Calm yourself then. It's just me. I don't bite hard." I grumbled. I cracked my eyes open only to be greeted by a seething Murph, he had manage to wiggle his head out from where I had tucked it under my chin.

"Of all the fuckin' gay faggoty fuckin' things you could fuckin' do you gay fuckin' leprechaun, ya fuckin' cuddle with me? Let go of me, NOW!" He shoved hard against my chest but I held on.

"Oh, Murph. Yer dignity won't allow a cuddle? Ye poor thin'!" I chuckled again. That seemed to piss him off worse and he threw himself violently against me. I released my grip and he tumbled off of the bed. He tried to gather himself in the most dignified way possible and turned to glare at me.

"I don't know what the fuck you think _this_ is," He gestured loosely between us. "But I am _not _ya brotha'. Okay? Yer here 'cause two good shots is better than one, alrigh'? I'm not a fuckin' faggot. I do NOT cuddle, so fuck you."

I smiled cheekily. "Awe honey, I hate it when we fight." He lunged for me throwing punches blindly, most connected with flesh. I flew into action, a right hook catching him in the stomach and the breath whooshed out of his lungs. I took the temporary distraction and threw him back on the bed and straddled him, my knees holding down his hands. He threw his weight against me but I didn't budge. "Alrigh' Daryl-"

"I thought ya was callin' me Murph." He interrupted.

I shot him a look telling him to shut his mouth. "I really can't pass off those looks ye give me as brotherly, _Daryl._"

"What? Yer fuckin' lyin'! I don't give you no faggoty looks!" He threw himself against me again, his rage boiling over. "Now fuckin' let me GO!"

"Calm down. There is no sense in lyin' te yerself." I smugly kept him pinned.

"There ain't no one 'm lyin' ta!" He hissed.

"Daryl, I may not know ye as well as I'd like te, but ye are a terrible fuckin' liar." I smiled warmly. "But I'll keep your secret." I winked, a smirk pulling at the corners of my mouth.

"Get. The. Fuck. OFF OF ME!" He growled and threw his weight again.

"You'll have to do better than that, winning so easily is getting dull." I got off of him and crawled out of the bed. He shot me a nasty glare as he stood and composed himself.

"Fuck you, mick." He spat and stalked off to a back room. I looked down at my leg and gingerly put some weight on it. I hissed as pain flared but it was manageable. I gritted my teeth and took a step forward. The pain hummed through my leg but it was easily ignored as I trailed Daryl into the bathroom.

"I need to go to the closest town." I voiced. Daryl shot me a questioning look. "I need cigarettes." I thought it over. "And some hard alcohol would be a bonus." I grinned at him. He wordlessly shoved an almost empty bottle of whiskey into my hands and walked out of the bathroom. The contents sloshed around and my grin grew. I turned and followed him back to the main part of the house. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled open the freezer. The freezer had had three packages of the best damn thing I had seen in god knows how long. "Oh my god. Were ya plannin' on keepin' this a secret if I hadn't asked, then?" I made my way over the freezer and my fingers danced along the packaging. "Fuck me." I muttered.

I pulled at the corner and slid a pack out. I pulled two cigarettes and fumbled for the lighter in the bottom of my pocket. I lit the two cigarettes and offered one to Daryl. I inhaled the smoke and sucked in a breath. Reveling in the warm smoke filling my lungs. A lazy grin played at the corners of my lips. I breathed out a puff of smoke and my grin grew wider. I looked over to Daryl, who stood there awkwardly looking at the cigarette, as if he didn't know what to do with it. I took the cigarette from his fingers and stubbed it out on the counter and slipped it back into the pack. I hated stale, pre-lit smokes but hey, the apocalypse made me a bit less picky. I inhaled another long drag and stepped closer to Daryl.

"Just relax and breathe in." I mumbled and exhaled the smoke.

"Get away from me." He growled, his Adams apple bobbing in, what I assumed, nervousness. Like a caged, feral animal. He looked ready to tell me off again for being to close. Just as he opened his mouth to insult me I took and long drag and leaned in, pressing my lips to his. His lips were parted and I exhaled heavily. I pulled back, a wicked glint in my eye. His eyes swam with a million different emotions. From disgust to surprise. His lips were clamped shut and he looked like he didn't know what to do now.

"Ye better not waste that. Just breath in through your mouth now." I stepped back and grinned and he sucked in a breath. "Good now hold it as long as you like and exhale-" He puffed out a jagged breath and started coughing. "-slowly." I rolled my eyes. I let my cigarette dangle from my lips. " Do ya know if there are any backpacks in the house?" Through his coughing fit he vaguely gestured to the back bedroom. I grabbed the backpack from the closet in the room and emptied the cartons of cigarettes into the backpack. "This should last a while. Especially if you smoke like a pussy." I chuckled as he flipped me the bird. He cleared his throat and stood, finally catching his breath.

"Do that again I'll kick your ass." He muttered and turned towards the front door. "We are going to head south to those houses I mentioned earlier. About three days travel time." He swung his crossbow over one shoulder and his pack over the other. I trailed after him, the cigarette packs bouncing around in my pack. I took another drag of the cigarette and stubbed it out on the wall and tossed it in the grass. The morning air was cool, for now, but later on it will probably be stifling hot and humid. We tread silently through the woods, Daryl stopping once and a while to stare fixatedly at the ground. He motioned for me to be quiet and duck down. I slid into a crouching pose silently beside him.

A low moan came from in front of us. Daryl drew his cross bow and aimed at the walker's head. The quiet _Thwack_ sounded as the bolt buried itself in the fucker's head. I clapped Daryl on the shoulder and walked over the thing. I crouched down and pulled the bolt from its head and wiped it off on my pants. I turned to hand it to Daryl and met his eyes. A soft crunch came from behind me and his eyes filled with fear, although he wouldn't admit it later. I turned and was met with the sight of a decomposing walker. An eyeball hung loose from its socket and swung as it lunged for me. _Lovely._ My hand fell to the sheath where my knife was. _Fuck._ It wasn't there. Daryl must have taken it out of my leg and left it. My hands flicked up and caught the lunging walkers throat between my hands. The skin beneath my fingers was cold and loose. My stomach rolled as the stench assaulted my nose. I can get used to the world being over and the fact that everyone is dead, but the stench makes my stomach roll violently every time. It made everything so much more real. A loud squelching sound filled my ears as a bolt from Daryl's crossbow embedded itself in the thing. It fell limply to my side. I rolled away from the thing and settled on the grass.

"Daryl," I gasped out, breathing hard still. "Come here." I could practically hear his eye roll.

"There could be more close." He grunted.

"Look at the stars. How beautiful they are." I smiled as settled in the grass a few feet away with a quiet mutter about 'stupid star gazin' gettin' us killed.' I sighed. "We are insignificant little specs te this planet. We don' matter. Even if I die tomorrow the world will still turn. The sun will still rise. The stars will shine and the world will live on. I make no more difference to the fate of this world any more than the blades of grass beneath us. And yet here we are. Living. Breathing. We are amazing. The chemicals in our brains driving us te live, the emotions in our hearts giving us the will to do so and the muscles beneath our skin giving us to power to thrive. And millions of years of evolution allowing us te adapt." I grinned and looked over at Daryl, a hazy look in his eyes.

I flicked two cigarettes out of the package and lit them. I went to hand one to Daryl and hesitated. My hand hung between us awkwardly as I realized he probably didn't want a smoke. It was just a habit to pull two smokes out. It was _always _Connor and Murphy. My throat closed. He wasn't Murph, my chain-smoking Murph. My eyes swam and Daryl looked at me curiously. I swallowed hard and went to pull back the cigarette. He snatched it from between my fingers and settled it on his lip. My heart rose in my throat and I smiled at him, slipping my own cigarette into my mouth. "Thanks." I choked out and took a long drag. Trying to hide my face from him.

"Not like lung cancer is at the top of my list of things ta worry 'bout." He grumbled. He slowly pulled on the cigarette, the cherry glowing. He inhaled through his mouth and breathed it out. "Well hell, that ain't so bad, almost nice-" His thoughts were cut off by a loud hacking couch that tore itself from his lungs, his face turned red and he coughed again. I laughed lightly.

"Your fuckin' grace amazes me. A fuckin' ballerina, you are." I laughed even more at the scowl he gave me. I heard a twig snap and his scowl dropped. He slid the smoke back in between his lips and flew to his feet, crossbow in hand.

"Get te fuck off af me! I won' fuckin' do it!" A voice hollered. My stomach dropped to my knees. I rose and turned, sobs escaping my lips. Three figures emerged from the trees.

"_Murphy!_" I cried out and lunged for him. A shotgun rose to meet my eyes.

"Take a step closer I'll fucking blow your goddamn brains out and then kill your brother." The man to Murphy's left growled. "And tell your boyfriend to lower his fucking toy." The man was at least a head taller than me and his dark ebony skin shone with sweat and grime. His dark eyes held only hatred and disgust. He was as inhuman as the walkers. Void of emotion.

"I ain't his fuckin' BOYRFRIEND!" Daryl hissed but lowered his weapon.

"What do you want?" I growled coldly. No one would stand between Murph and me, now. His lips stretched over white teeth.

"Oh, nothing really. Just you in exchange for him." A dark light shone threw his eyes.

Daryl laughed. "Yeah fuckin' right. Like fuck-"

"Okay." I breathed out. The man's smile broadened. Daryl and Murph started cursing and yelling.

"What the fuck are ye doin'? Fuckin' walk away Conn, NOW!" Murphy cried out desperately. Only then did I notice the thick, deep bags under his eyes and the way his bones protruded from his skin and the defeated way he hung between the men. My anger flared. Daryl harshly grabbed my shoulder and spun me to face him.

"Listen you stupid Mick. They don't want to eat sweets and share crushes. They will fucking kill you! And what the fuck am I supposed to do with him! I don't know him and I don't want him. Let's just go! We can figure out some other-" I pressed my lips to his in a chaste kiss and pulled back. He would've stabbed me if given the chance but I was never going to see him again. So he could suck it up.

"Take care of him." I said, my eyes dancing over his face. His mouth twisted into a snarl.

"What?" He growled.

"I need to know you will." He nodded solemnly. I turned back to Murphy's captors. Murphy's eyes were dropping and he was strangely silent. "Give him to Daryl and I will come with you." They nodded and dropped Murphy at my feet. I lifted his head and placed my forehead against his. "I fuckin' love ye ya fuckin idiot." I hauled him up and handed him to Daryl. "Take care of yourself too, Daryl." I dropped my backpack next to his feet. I smiled at him and turned back to the men and strode forwards. They grabbed me roughly by the arms and dragged me forwards, my leg protested sharply but I tried to keep up anyways. I glanced back over my shoulder. Daryl was pacing and Murph was sitting on the ground, head bowed in his hands.

"How did you find me?" I muttered.

"We have… contacts." He grinned as if there was an inside joke.

"Did you drug him." There was no question in my voice.

"No, Mr. MacManus." He looked at me, an arrogant smirk on his lips. "We broke him."

A/N: Da da DAAAA! Oh my gosh! Cliff hanger! (Atleast I hope it was cliff-ish. Hell I'd be okay even if it just came across as small hill-ish.) Any who. Sorry that it's a bit dull in the beginning but I wanted to make this longer than usual and good, because I sucked at updating. Review and stuff! 3 If you have any suggestions or ideas where you would like to see this just PM me and I'll take them all to heart. I solemnly swear! Haha. I love you all so very much. You guys fucking rock. Ta ta for now!


	5. Lotus in Mortem

A/N: Woo hoo! A quick update! Oh my gosh! I hope you enjoy reading! Remember to review and whatnot! And thank you to those you have followed and favorited the story and me. :) Thank you for reading.

Chapter IV:

Daryl POV:

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I growled in frustration. A sob escaped from his brother's lips. _Murphy._ This is fucking Murphy. My doppelganger. What a sack of shit. The mick and I would've done just fine if this stupid fucker hadn't shown up. "Why couldn't you just be dead!" I muttered, not really meaning to say it out lout, but the way he flinched was worth it. He sat in silence, the occasional sob escaping his lips.

"Because I had to find Connor." He was so quiet I had barely heard him.

"What?" I spat. He turned to look at me with red, puffy eyes.

"I couldn't just give up on him. I need him just as much as he needs me. He would've driven himself mad with guilt. Don' ye see that? He blamed himself. He would've fuckin' driven himself inta te ground lookin' fer me. And if ye had known him or given a fuck ye would've known tha', ye stupid hick." He hissed, tears leaking from his eyes. I stood, shocked at the outburst.

"I don't give a fuck about him." I growled. "Or you, for that matter." My hands shook with anger.

"Is tha why he kissed ye?" He halfheartedly smiled. "I mean, it's a bit weird with ye lookin' like me and all, but I ain't one te judge." He stood from his place on the ground.

"He didn't fucking kiss me!" I growled and snatched Connor's bag from the ground.

"Uh huh. I really don' care about you touchin' ma brother's pecker but we need te get 'im back." He ran his hand through his hair, his hands obviously shaking.

I scowled at his comment. "Do ya have a plan?" His face fell.

"He was usually te one to make the plans." He sighed. "Do ye have cigarettes? Helps me te think." I considered saying no. They were Connor's and mine. Not this stupid Mick's. But that was just stupid. I mean, I hardly like the damn things. And it's not like Connor will be smoking them anytime soon. A flash of pain wrapped itself around my stomach.

"Here." I grumbled and tossed him a pack and a lighter from Connor's bag. He smiled a bit and pulled two out. He lit them quickly and then looked up at me. His face fell and he looked so lost. It was the same expression Connor had given me when he had done the same thing. He just stared at the smoke in his had, not quite sure what to do. I sighed and snatched the thing from his fingers.

"Might as well." I muttered pulling in to my lips as I watched the sun raise above the trees.

Connor POV:

I hissed sharply as they shoved me to my knees in a cellar. I heard the sound of door slam and a lock snap closed. I looked around. No windows or exits of any kind. _Lovely._

"He-Hello?" A small voice called from the darkness. I jumped to my feet.

"Who's there?" I growled. "I'm fuckin' armed." I bluffed.

"P-please, don't hurt us. It's just my daughter and I." Her voice quivered and I immediately dropped my defensive pose.

"It's okay. I won't hurt ye." Shame filled me. "I'm sorry." My eyes adjusted to the dark and I spotted two huddle forms in the corner. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Are you the brother the man spoke of?" The taller figure stood and approached me, slowly. I ignored her question.

"Where are we? What do they want?" I looked at the tiny, frail woman in front of me. She looked as though she hadn't eaten in days. Her hair was a matted mess on top of her head and her skin clung to bones haphazardly.

"I don't know." She choked out. "But they- they do awful things."

"Mommy?" A quiet voice called from the corner. My heart stopped as the other figure stood. She couldn't be any older than 11. The older woman held out her arm and the child scampered forwards and buried herself in her mother's side.

"What have they done to you?" My heart hammered hard in my chest.

"They _use_ us." Her sobs grew louder. "They touch my baby and I can't stop them. God save your soul. I'm so sorry you're here."

"They touch her!" I hissed in disgust. "I'll get you out of here. I promise." The mother's eyes shone, a flicker of hope dancing across her face, only to disappear almost immediately.

"There is no hope. Not anymore." She turned and escorted her daughter back to the corner. "Pray to your god and hope they kill you soon." I sat down against the wall, holding my head in my hands. Murphy was here. My little brother was in this hellhole for god knows how long. Watching them violate a mother and child. Torturing him. _Breaking_ him. He is safe now. Daryl will protect him. A wave of calm fell over me. Daryl and Murphy are safe and that is all that matters.

"Your brother tried to save her." The mother spoke softly.

"Tried to save who?" I mumbled, tears falling down my cheeks.

"My daughter. They were coming to take her and he threw himself in front of her and fought. He fought so hard but he had given his rations to us. He was so weak." She sobbed. "They tied him up and touched her, here. They made us watch. I couldn't look. He cried and screamed. When they had finished he just sat there. He was broken. They had crushed his soul. He had given up. He didn't pray for his brother to rescue him anymore. He just sat there. So empty."

A hard sob shook my chest. "How can you talk about this? Why are you telling me this?" I cried out.

"Even the strongest are broken. Just accept that now and give up. It will hurt less in the end."

Daryl POV:

I hauled the nearly unconscious man back to the cabin. It looked like we'd be staying here longer than I would've liked. I dropped him on the bed and went to the pantry to pull out the canned tuna. I pried the lid off with my knife and handed it to him.

"Eat and I'll get you some water." I turned and fumbled through my pack, pulling out the water bottle from the bottom. "Here." I dropped it on the bed next to him. I flopped down in the recliner across from him and watched him eat. It was eerie how much we looked alike. His hair was lighter than mine and he was a few years younger but everything else was identical. He took a long sip of water and set the can aside.

"There was a mother and her daughter in the cellar with me." He sighed, a dark light dancing through his eyes. I groaned and settled down for story time. "They raped them. The girl was only 10 or 11 and they touched her. The mother tried te stop them from a while but she eventually gave up. I started giving the girl my rations. They were meager but how could I not? One day they came in te get the girl and I tried te stop them. I tried so fuckin' hard but I couldn't stop them." His voice broke but he continued on. " They subdued me and they started touching her. They raped her in front of her mother and me. The girl cried and screamed for me to help her and I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I had te look away and I tried te not listen to her screams and pleads. I ignored the fact that there was a young girl being raped not 5 feet from me. I was indifferent. I just gave up. I didn't have faith that Connor would find me. I just accepted the fact that I would die in that cellar." He was sobbing openly by now. "They're goin' te kill him."

"No they won't." I growled.

"You didn't see them. The things they did. We'll be too late." He mumbled. I stood and stalked over to him, grabbing him by the shirt. God, he's like a fucking woman with these mood swings.

"I ain't got faith in anything anymore, mick. But you listen here. Connor isn't allowed to fucking die. Okay? I'm going to think of something and I am going to save that sorry mick's ass, with or without you. Now get your shit together because we are leaving soon." I dropped his shirt and dropped back on the chair. "Connor is going to live because I got faith in the fact that he is one tough son of a bitch. And you should too." That effectively shut him up. The minutes ticked by and sun started to stream through the windows.

"I have a plan." He broke the silence with his strong, renewed voice. "They won't be expecting us to come for him so soon. There are only about 6 of them and we can take them by surprise. We can circle around to the north side and take out the perimeter watchman and get inside that way. There will be one more guy sitting outside of the cellar door and the rest will be inside the dining room, most likely." I nodded.

"I can take out the watchmen with my crossbow. It will be quieter. Do you think you can find it again?" I stood and slung the crossbow over my shoulder.

"Yes." He stood up and looked me in the eye. "Thank you." I just nodded and turned to the door. "Let's go." I stepped out into the hot, heavy midday air scanned the forest. No walkers in sight. Murphy stepped in front of me and began to lead the way. We trekked through the woods for about 2 hours until a large farmhouse appeared from between the trees. I crouched down as we circled around to the north face of the building. A single watchmen was leaning against the worn, brown fence that enclosed the house. I lifted my crossbow and fired a shot right through his brain. He fell limp immediately. I sprinted across the clearing, turning to make sure Murphy was following. I pulled my bolt from the dead mans head and wiped if off on my pants. I reloaded and stepped up to the wooden door hanging on its hinges. The brown siding on the house looked like it was decaying and all of the windows were boarded up, so no one had seen us. I pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.

Connor POV:

A man approached me and hauled me to my knees roughly.

"What do want with me?" I growled, looking up defiantly.

"Oh, dear saint, I just want to play with you." He smiled a toothy smile. "I was so sad when my last toy broke so easily. I wonder if you'll be just as fun."

"Let them go and I'll do whatever you want." I nodded towards the mother and child.

"Oh them? Hmm…" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "No." He pulled his gun and fired. A scream pierced my ears, only then did I realize it was mine.

"Why? Why! You didn't have to kill her. Oh god." I sobbed, hanging my head.

"Want to see something amazing?" He walked over to the mother cradling her dying daughter. "She's been begging me to kill her and her child. And now we get to watch." He held the gun against her temple.

"Don't do it! Don't be stupid you fat-" Two shots rang through the air. "Christ. Jesus Christ. What the fuck!" Wait. Two shots? I looked over at the man and he was lying on the floor, dead as well. "What the fu-"

"Lord's name, Connor." My heart swelled. _Murphy._

"Murphy. He killed them. Oh god. He shot a girl! He killed her. Her mum had just given up. Oh god Murphy. It was awful. I told them I would save them. I said I would and I didn't and oh-"

"Shhh. It's okay Conn." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. "We're here." I sobbed against his shoulder, mumbling apologies between sobs.

"Daryl. Where's Daryl." I pulled away from Murph and stood.

"I'm here, you pansy." He muttered from the doorway. I flung my arms around him and he grew ridged. "I didn't miss your clinginess." I laughed and hung on tighter.

"I'm sorry. I just couldn't let them have Murph. I'm so sorry. I thought he was dead. I thought the walkers had gotten him. I thought I was going to find him decaying, walking around on some street. Oh god, I was so sca-" Warm lips pressed against mine and I melted. I clung on tighter and pulled back a bit and rested my forehead on his. "Unexpected but not unwanted." A smile tugged at my lips.

"It shut ya up, didn't it?" He grumbled and pulled away from me. He stalked up the stairs, mumbling something about making sure they were all dead.

"Ye got yerself a real catch there, Conn." Murph laughed. "I never really knew you were into the whole asshole, redneck type. And I didn't really take ye for a gay, but to each their own, aye?"

I chuckled and looked around the room, my face dropping as my eyes came to rest on the bodies of the woman and child.

"We have to send their souls to God, Murph." He sobered up and nodded. Neither of us had pennies so we settled on saying the prayer alone.

"Shepherds we shall be for Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti." We spoke in synchronicity, closing their eyelids. We stood and trudged up the stairs with heavy hearts.

Daryl emerged at the top of the stairs holding his left arm in his right hand, covered in blood.

"What te fuck happened to ye? Did one get the jump on ye?" Murphy laughed. Daryl scowled and looked pointedly at me.

"If your stupid, mick brother hadn't missed and shot one in the leg he wouldn't have got the jump on me. So can we do the world a favor and just leave him here?" He grumbled, with a playful note to his voice.

"Hmm… he can be quite stupid and loud at times." I mused, a grin splitting my face. Murphy glared at me sourly.

" 'm not stupid." He muttered, brushing past Daryl.

"Three can be quite a crowd, Connor." He looked sidelong at Murphy. My grin widened and my heart thrummed in my chest.

"You called me Connor." He scowled at his slipup.

"Don't get used to it, leprechaun." He grumbled and turned to Murphy. "Hey mick, don't go outside alone, the walkers can smell stupid and you practically radiate it."

"Yeah fuck you, inbred. Your family tree must be confusing. I mean your mother was probably your cousin and sister. Have any extra toes you care to show us?" He laughed. Daryl pounced on him, throwing punches. A right hook caught Murphy in the jaw and he retaliated with a jab to Daryl's stomach. I laughed at the sight and rolled my eyes, stepping around them.

"Alright, ladies. Retract the claws. We have places to be." I dodged a stray kick and nudged them apart. They both stood and glared at each other. Murphy was nursing a split lip and Daryl some bruised ribs.

"My fuckin' face!" Murphy hissed.

"Your ugly face deserved it." Daryl smirked.

"Yer callin' yerself ugly as well, ye know." Murphy sneered.

"Oh shut up, Mick." He turned on his heel and exited the house. Murphy turned to him.

"Definitely a sharp one." He chuckled.

"Sod off, frère." I followed Daryl outside, a grin playing at my lips.

"Trying to sound all smart with French. You may know French better but I can speak Spanish circles around your pitiful French." He trailed after me. I reached over and ruffled his hair.

"Sure, _little_ brother." I strode ahead to catch up with Daryl.

"My cock wasn't smaller than yours!" He shouted at me, indignantly. Daryl shot me a confused questioning look.

"Don't ask." I laughed.

"Wasn't planning on it." He grumbled. The sun dipped below the tree line as we weaved through the trees the small cottage. Everything was going to be okay. I have Murphy and Daryl. I had my brother and whatever Daryl was considered. The world would keep turning and we'd survive.


	6. Novam Societatem

A/N: I don't even know. I'm so sorry! I had nothing going on in my life when I started this story and now everything has happened at once. I got an acting gig (YAY!) and family issues (not yay). I'm just so sorry. I won't ever abandon this story! It just might take a while, especially since I actually have an acting job that pays. But I'll keep trying! Yell at me via PM/review is you have any problems with the story/characters (or my tardiness). Enjoy! And please review. It helps me get motivated! :)

**Connor POV**

A low grumbled woke me. I tiredly cracked open one eye. No sunlight assaulted me, so I opened both my eyes, blinking into the dark. Shapes slowly formed against the dark trees. _Fuck._ I turned to scurry up the tree I had slept under. A warm hand clamped over my mouth and dragged me behind a thick tree. I pulled and fought, but the grip on me was tight. Finally the hand lifted from my mouth. I turned to my captor and nearly sighed in relief. Fucking Daryl.

"Who was supposed ta be watchin'?" I hissed quietly.

"Your dumb, Irish fuck of a brother." He growled back. I sighed. Murph must have fallen asleep. Lazy sod.

"Where is Mu—" A cold, clammy hand grasped at my elbow. "Shit." I whipped around, my elbow connecting with the temple of a stray walker.

"We have to go." Daryl glanced around desperately, as desperate as I'd ever seen him. I dared a look around. A few walkers, maybe ten, had found their way through the forest and into our laps.

"I can't leave without 'im." I pulled on his arm, forcing him to look me in the eye. He was pleading. _Pleading_. "You know I can't, Daryl. Not again." He pulled his arm from my hand and stuck his knife in the head of the walker I had knocked over. He stood and wiped his blade off. His gaze settled on me again, a fierce light shining in his eyes. He snatched his bag from the forest floor and started approaching me. "Daryl. Stop. We have ta find him. He can't 've run far." The groans surrounding us were getting louder. Daryl took another step towards me. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. He roughly grabbed my elbow pulling me in.

"It has to be done." He brushed his lips lightly against mine.

"This isn't te fuckin' time for this!" I pushed away from him. As I turned away from him he threw his fist at my head. It connected with a dull thud and I fell limp, a pair of arms catching me before I hit the ground. My head lolled as I faded in and out on consciousness. He lifted up my legs and started off through the forest.

"Ye bastard. I'm gonna fuckin' kill ye, ya damn asshole." It felt like I was thinking through honey. The words stuck in my throat, barely escaping more than a slur. My head started to pound and then the blissful blackness fell.

**Murphy POV**

Fuck. Why didn't I just fucking get Daryl to take my shift. I fuckin' risked their lives. Is that what this world has come to? A man takes a nap, his brother and his brothers 'not gay' gay lover almost die. Cheery. A low growl to my right kills my inner dialogue.

I point Daryl's crossbow at the walker. "Shut it, you." I let a bolt loose. I shouldn't have taken his crossbow. I pulled the bolt from its head and wiped it clean on my jeans. I just wanted to try it out. It looked fun. "Fuck!" I growled in frustration. This is great. Not only did I take his protection, I fucking fell asleep on watch. Jesus. If Daryl dies, Connor will never forgive me. Hell, I'll never forgive me. The stupid hick has grown on me, in a weird cancerous way. I ducked under a tree. Now, if I was a dumb hick and a sleep dazed Irishman, where would I go? Cabin? No. They said it was out of the question. Those gangster fucks were way to close to it. The condos. Connor had mentioned they were headed to some condos and houses lining the main highway. That would be fucking helpful if I knew where the fuck they were. Well, I know where the highway is. Just follow that, I guess. I huffed and headed off in the direction of the highway.

The crossbow grew heavier and heavier as I put more miles between the walkers and I. The hot Georgian sun beat down mercilessly. Sweat dripped into my eyes. I grimaced and wiped it away. I stumbled over a fallen tree, the crossbow falling from my grip. I pulled myself to my feet once again and shuffled over to where it lay a few feet away. I slung it over my shoulder and pressed onward. A loud caw dragged my gaze to the sky. A black bird circled overhead. Fantastic. The buzzards are circling. I nearly fell on my face as my foot came into contact with something hard. I looked down. A road. I looked to my right and nearly cried. A long stretch of highway lay before me. I took a step and tried to pick up the pace. My vision swam with black. The world tilted and my head came into contact with the road. The world continued to turn black as I slumped further into the ground and admitted defeat. 'm sorry, Connor. I tried. Three days in the woods. God as my witness, I tried. I'm just so tired, brother. My eyes closed, one last time and the world was gone.

**Daryl POV**

I had to do it. There wasn't a choice. The fuck-tard would have wandered off into the damn horde to save his brother. I can't let him do that. The stupid fucker is useful. He can shoot and he knows how to survive. Mostly. I'm just protecting what is left of humanity. _Protecting him._ I scoffed at that thought. I was _not_ protecting him. He's just luggage that got lucky. He has a purpose and a use, so I'll keep him around. _I don't want to be alone any more. _It's smart to have someone to watch your back. I'll survive longer. I groaned, shifting Connors weight to my other arm. Stupid, chatty mick is out for a few minutes and I'm arguing with myself. I should have never gotten this… _attached_… used to his company. He's not overly annoying. I'll give the kid that. He's a bit clingy. A lot clingy. _But that's okay_. I can tolerate it. Two heads are better than one. Before the world ended, I might've liked the idiot. _Loved._ I blanched. What. The. Fuck.

"Time for you to wake up." I growled and proceeded to drop Connor on his ass. He sucked in a breath and shot up to his feet.

"What the fuck! Ye ass." He looked around, confused. "Where's Murph?" I averted my gaze. _Shit_. He didn't remember. I didn't want to have to explain it all. I'd already watched him lose it once, And that was _more_ than enough. "Murphy?" He called out hesitantly. "Murphy where-" He sucked in another hard breath. "Where is he Daryl? Please-" He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Please tell me that it was all a bad dream. _Please._"

"He took my crossbow." _IDIOT!_ Of all the things I could say, that was what came out. Smooth, dumbass.

"He took yer… crossbow!" He hissed, seething with anger. "Ye fuckin' bastard. I had a chance and a choice ta make. And ye took that from me. Ya took _him_ from me. My flesh and blood. My soul."

I groaned. "I had too! We would've died. All of us. I had to make the call, you moron. What would you have chosen?" _Who would you have chosen?_ Was what wanted to ask. He took a steadying breath and looked me in the eye. My stomach dropped. I knew. I always knew. I'm better on my own. I don't fucking need him. I never needed him. Or anyone, for that matter.

"Daryl-" He started.

"No. I'm so sick of your stupid shit. Crying like a little bitch all the time! Pouting about your 'dead' brother! And then when you get him back all you do is drape yourself over me! You don't deserve to be alive! You don't deserve to have your brother! I should've left you in that church to die. Your brother would be a lot better off and so would I." I turned away from him, seething with anger.

"Take tha' back." He growled. I laughed scornfully.

"What are ya? Seven fuckin' years old. I ain't takin' shit back." A hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. A fist connected with my nose. A sickening crunch filled my ears and a blinding pain shot through my face. "You miserable, worthless leprechaun! You broke my nose! I'm going to fuckin' kill ya!" I lunged and him. My sudden movement caught him off guard and he toppled town underneath me. I pulled back my fist and swung at his face. He twisted underneath me so it caught him on the side of his jaw. My knuckles stung and he took the moment of distraction to flip us over and pin my down. "I'm getting' real sick of ya takin' the cheap shots and pinnin' me."

"Shut it. Now, it's my turn te talk and yer turn te listen. Every time I think tha' I can put a definition to whatever it is that's goin' on between us, ye turn 'round and say shit like that. You're an asshole Daryl Dixon. But you're not a bad guy, no matter how fuckin' hard ye try an' be."

**Murphy POV**

_Murphy, ye lazy asshole, gettup! _I moaned and swatted at the offending voice. My head throbbed in time with my heart beat. I could hear the blood rushing through my ears.

"Connor, yer a right ass. Me head fuckin' hurts." I slurred and tried to peel open my eyes, only to clamp them shut against the blazing sun.

_C'mon! We have to go find Daryl._

"Daryl. Daryl. DARYL! It's all about goddamned Daryl! News flash! I'm yer brother, mate. He's your gay lover who can't even admit to being your gay lover." I ground the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to fight off the headache.

_It's not like that._ I scoffed.

"It's not like that, aye? So if ya had ta chose, brotha', you'd pick me?"

_This is not the time for ye to be a pussy. If ye lay there any longer yer gonna die._

"I welcome it! Do ya know what it's like te find yer brotha' after thinking him dead for 5 days? NO! Because you had already gone and replaced me with some piece of ass that looks like me! It was always Connor and Murphy. You've changed, brotha'. You've lost your head. You think you're in love, do ya? The fuckin' world has ended! There isn't time for all this pussy bullshit. You and me, Conn. Jus' like old times. We can make it." I gathered my feet under me and pushed myself up. I glanced around, on wobbling legs. "Conn?" I whispered. "Shit." What am I doing here? Where am I headed? Why does my brain feel like someone went to town with a potato peeler? "SHIT! Connor!" Fuck! The condos. I have to find him. I tried to take a step forwards but my knee buckled and I tumbled to the pavement.

"Ya want some help there, walker-bait?" A loud voice called out from behind me.

"Who te fuck-" I tried to turn and catch a glimpse of the hopefully real person, but my head protested at any movement. Footsteps echoed across the pavement. A warm hand pulled at my arm.

"C'mon, walker-bait. Get up! There are walkers coming this way." A dark figure crouched in front of me, features slowly coming into focus. A dark tangle of hair adorned his head, outlining brown eyes and a strong face. He hooked his hands under my arms and hauled me up. I gasped, nearly blacking out at the pain.

"Stop! Please, stop. It hurts." I moaned. My head lolled against his shoulder. He pulled my arm around his neck and took a step forward. Pain shot up my spine, sending a wave of nausea through me.

"Shut up, walker-bait, and suck it up. I'm getting you out of here." He pulled me forward at a steady rate, pain spiking through me with each step. The sun beat down on us, the road seemed to sizzle and melt beneath us.

"Who're ye?" I slurred out, gritting my teeth against another wave of pain.

"That is of no consequence." The stranger muttered from beside me.

" 'mkay." I blinked, fighting of the impending darkness. My head lolled forwards and my eyelids fluttered shut, despite my efforts, darkness fell.

A cold concrete floor poked and prodded my back in all of the wrong places. What a lovely way to wake up.

"I know you're awake, walker-bait." A deep voice deadpanned from beside me. I groaned loudly as I sat up, my eyes still squeezed shut. "Quit your moaning, I have warm food and coffee. I slowly opened my eyes. A small fire was burning merrily away in front of me and a dark figure was crouched over a pot, stirring its contents.

"Coffee?" I tossed the flimsy blanket off of my legs and scurried towards the warm smell of coffee. The stranger smirked and filled a small cup with the coffee and held it out for me to take. I snatched the coffee and took a long draw. The putrid, thick liquid sloshed down my throat, burning as it went. "_That_ was not coffee." I spluttered. "Tha' tasted a bit like death with a hint of torture." I scowled.

"Welcome to the end of society; where coffee tastes like shit, cigarettes are stale, and the dead are walking." He snapped at me. "Just in case you didn't get the news."

"Yeah, yeah. Fair point." I nodded solemnly. "But yer coffee is still shite." I laughed and took another sip, grimacing. The man shot me a deadly look. "Speakin' of smokes, do ye got any? I could really, _really _use one."

"They're rare these days." He grinned.

"So're people." I countered.

"Fair point." He chuckled and turned to fumble around in the bag behind him. He turned back with an unopened pack in his hand. "Here, but that's all your getting from me." He tossed it and I snatched it before it could hit the ground.

"Aye, that's the shit." I unwrapped the plastic and took a long breath. "Mmmm. Thanks. I owe ye one." I popped one of the Marlborough into my mouth. "Got a light?" He nodded and tossed me a book of matches. I lit the cigarette and popped the pack into my jacket pocket. I took a long drag. "Me name's Murphy." He grinned.

"I know." His smile faltered. "I didn't mean for that to sound so creepy. Your name and face were all over the news and the Internet. The saints of Boston. I remember reading about you and your brother. You guys were heroes everywhere." He flushed with embarrassment. And all at once, I realized how young he was. A man, yes, but only just barely. Maybe 19 at the most.

"How old are you?" I peered at him. I took another long drag of my cigarette.

"I'm, uh, 23." He muttered. I laughed.

"No ya ain't, mate." I grinned. "I'll ask again, how old are you?" He shifted around.

"Uh, 17." He flushed again and played with his hands.

"Not gonna lie to ya kid, ya seemed a lot more badass when I was halfway to death's door." I laughed. "So who else is travelling with you?"

"Uh, no one." He worried his lip.

"Ya tellin' me that you survived this long with no one to watch your back?" I hissed, awestruck.

"Yeah. I used to travel with some guys. But the lead guy was a hard ass, a racist, and a redneck from hell. But he could hunt, which was really handy." He paused and laughed. "Bad pun. He, uh, he cut off his own hand or something. His old group had handcuffed him to a roof or some shit."

"I have a hard ass, racist redneck of my own. He has both hands though." I laughed. "So I guess it won't be to hard for you to adjust to our group. Just three of us; Daryl, Conn, and I." He perked up at the list of names.

"Daryl? I swear I know a Daryl." He made a small noise and leaned back against the wall behind him.

I brushed off his comment; the odds were against him knowing my Daryl. "Where are we anyways?" I leaned back and took another drag.

"Employee lounge of a Target." He grinned and lit a smoke for himself.

"Cheery." I scoffed. "It looks like a torture room." The barren walls and cold floor reminded me of a prison cell and the lone scraggly couch along the other wall looked no more comfortable than a prison cell cot.

"Yeah, a guy in my old group always said to avoid stores. Too many walkers. Best to just stay in the wilderness." He took a long drag on his cigarette.

"Smart guy." I smiled at him.

"Yeah, Merle knows how to survive."

A/N:** *GASP*** an actual plot is forming! Dear god! Annnnnd I still have no idea what I'm doing. -_- I hope my OC isn't shitty. If he is, just yell at me and I'll try to fix it. Anywho! I'm sorry about the wait! And I'm sorry it's short. Oh and sorry about the POV jumping. It had to be done. I'll try and update soon! Remember to Review! Until next time! Batman out.


	7. Author's Note

Hello all. I've really lost my momentum with this story. And I really don't want to abandon it but it has become a grueling chore to update. Which is really sad considering it's under 10 chapters. Real life has been a bitch lately. There's so much going on and I'm losing touch. So I just want to talk a brake for a few months and catch up with real life and the story. Maybe I'll write ahead a couple chapters. Anywho, I'm terribly sorry! I will completely understand if you strop reading and take it off your story alert list! Bye for now! Hopefully I'll hear from some of you in a few months. Oh and thanks for all of the new story followers! Live long and prosper. :)


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